


Closure

by Fallen_Ark_Angel



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Ark_Angel/pseuds/Fallen_Ark_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Laxus receives a letter addressing just what happened to his long-lost mother, he's more than happy to close that chapter in his life. Until he finds out that to do so, he also has to deal with another big portion of said chapter; his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: X798

  


"Wow, Lax, slow day as far as mail goes."

The man hardly glanced up as Mirajane came over to the table he was seated at in the guildhall, though when she was close enough his eyes did linger on her stomach for a moment or so. The way she was just slightly showing signs of her pregnancy was really endearing to him for some reason. With the hall so empty, he figured he'd let her stay over at the table with him for a bit. Shoot the breeze. It made her happy when he showed her some interest.

It was still rather early and, other than Erza, who was scouring for an S-Class job, and Kinana, who was still working on opening the guild up, they were basically alone. He was pretty sure that a few people were milling around in the back, but wasn't completely certain. Some liked to get in early, before the hall filled up, to use the bathhouse or for an early morning swim. He mostly just like the tranquility and tried to use it as a chance to take care of any Master duties that needed to be done that day.

"If it ain't a letter from the council making me the supreme ruler of the kingdom," he grumbled as she first sat a mug of ale down in front of him (drink early, stay happy all day, he'd long decided) before getting to the mail, "then I don't want it."

"Dragon," his wife giggled before rifling through the letters. There were quite a few. Then again, given the guildhall that he was running, that wasn't too shocking. Given the high amount of members that seemed to just be unable to wait to tear into a town (and it's building and surrounding areas), letters of anger and request of repatriations for damages were daily. Looking over one in particular, Mira began. "Okay, so the rent for the hall is due."

"Pay it. We had a good month this time." He reached out to pick up his mug, wishing the woman would just set the letters down and let him go over them alone. He liked her company, a lot, but talking about the hall was so boring. Rent? Bleh. he wished she'd jsut sit down in his lap and take a load off. Leave Kinana to finish opening up. His demon deserved it. "Lots of new members. Though Erza's been no help in that department-"

"I heard that," she complained from across the mostly empty hall, over by the request board. She was debating between two jobs, but had no trouble in tossing a quarrel with the slayer in, for old times sake. "And I have explained many times that it was just a misunderstanding."

"You made the poor girl flee the dormitory in tears," the slayer argued.

"Misunderstanding. Plain and simple."

"Anyways," Mirajane went on as she shuffled the letters, straining to read the next one. "You also got a handwritten letter from… Ooh, I can't read this. Uh, I think it might be from that town Natsu and Lucy went to the other-"

Sighing loudly, Laxus said, "Take care of it for me, huh? Write 'em a note, take the jewels from the Salamander to cover any damages and have Lucy work the rest off as a barmaid. Next."

"Okay." Shuffling them again, she frowned as she came to yet another stupefying one. "Oh. Huh. I wonder who would have sent this."

"What is it?" That got Laxus to look up, trying to see what she was holding. "Demon?"

"It's something for Master," she said with a frown.

"I am the Master."

"You know what I mean," she said, handing off the rest of the mail to him to sort through it. "Makarov. He hasn't been the Master in years though."

Laxus only went on to look through the rest on his own. Mostly just more junk. And bills. Ugh.

"Yeah, well, give it to him when you get off tonight," he told her simply. "Or don't you take him lunch in the afternoon? Give it to him then."

The man stayed with them, Makarov did, and had for the past year. It had been quite the battle, first for Mirajane to get Laxus to agree to it and then for Makarov to do the same. And even once that was all settled, the pair fought constantly, but lovingly.

Or so she assumed. They'd always had a love/hate relationship, after all.

She almost turned away, leaving him to the rest of the mail, but stopped suddenly as she read the return address.

"Dragon, look at this." Turning back to him, she moved to hand off the letter. "Isn't this the same address that those letters for your father came from?"

Dropping the ones in his hand, he moved to take that one from her and glance at it. The thing looked official enough. Just like the ones that had been addressed to Ivan had. They'd come only a week or so ago and Laxus just tossed them. Anyone trying to reach that man at Fairy Tail clearly was either an old creditor or an idiot.

"Looks like it." He snorted then. "Toss it with the others then."

"Dragon."

"What? Huh? Ivan ain't been affiliated with Fairy Tail since-"

"But if now they're going after Master-"

" _I'm_ the Master."

"Laxus."

"Here," he grumbled, moving to rip it open. "I'll open it then, huh?"

"Laxus, that's illegal," she hissed, moving to grab it from him. He wasn't making it easy on her though. "Give that back to-"

"Bug off, woman," he said, batting at her gently, rather conscious of her ever-growing belly. "You wanted me to get to the bottom of it; I'm getting to the bottom of it."

With a huff, she allowed him to pull a paper from the envelope. Glancing over his shoulder, she said, "That looks serious."

It was. The paper was actually a couple of them, all official documents it seemed. And, as Laxus just sat there, reading over it, he could hardly breathe.

"What is it, dragon?" Mira asked as he hunched over the document, not allowing her to read it. "Lax?"

He wasn't sure. Err, rather, he was, but he just couldn't…

"It's my…my…"

"What?" Resting a hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it slightly as she leaned down to at least get somewhat of a gist of the document. "It says… Who is Iris Dreyar?"

He couldn't breath right. "That's my… She was my…mother."

There was a moment where Mira just froze and Laxus only reached up to rub at his head.

"Dragon." Just as quickly, Mira was moving to try and wrap her arms around him. "Oh, are you okay? I didn't even know that she was alive."

"Neither did I," he whispered. "And now…now she's…"

"I have chosen a job."

That came from Erza, of course, as she headed over from the request board, flier in hand.

"I wish to depart immediately," she said to Mirajane. Kinana had disappeared, no doubt off to clean up in another portion of the guild, leaving Mira as the only one to process the request. "If you would- What is it? You both look stricken."

They were. Laxus more than Mirajane, really. Confusion was also extremely present.

"It's my…" He wasn't sure what to say, really, other than just shaking his head and getting to his feet. Shrugging Mira off (she was moving to pick up the papers anyways to look over them herself). "It's my mother. They were trying to contact Ivan and, when that didn't work, Gramps."

"Hmmm." Erza took a step back at that, bowing her head. "I am sorry for asking."

Laxus was a rather dry person usually, but he couldn't help it in that situation. His mind was racing and his heart felt much the same. There was a pounding in the back of his head and Mira was crying for some reason as she read the papers, which was stupid. She didn't know his mother anymore than he did, but such things as they were about to deal with always made her sad.

Always.

But Titania was still just standing in front of him, armor just as shiny as ever, seemingly shocked by Mira's sobs and unsure what to do. For a woman that thrived on drama filled novels, she was rather a novice when it came to situations in real life. In part though she didn't know, of course, what was in those papers. She just thought that his mother, who she'd no doubt never given any thought to, had written him a letter or something. No. It was worse than that. Much more.

"They want me to…" He didn't know why he felt the need to explain any more to Erza. What should she care? And why should it be any of her business? It was his and his alone.

And…Makarov. And Ivan. And that was the only family that he knew his mother had, but any of the others too.

But just not Erza.

That was all.

Still, the words tumbled out suddenly and without merit as he continued.

"They want," he began as he swallowed and Mira wiped at her eyes, "me to come down. Err, they wanted Gramps. Or Ivan, I guess. To…to…" He couldn't say it. After all those years of believing her to be dead didn't help him any in what he was experiencing at the moment. "They want someone to come to claim the body. Because she's dead. My…my mother is dead."

 


	2. Light: X761

  


"So what did your father say?"

The dark haired man ignored his wife as he walked through their tiny, cluttered apartment, face dark as his eyes. Stomping passed where she was seated on the couch, going over some sort of book it seemed, he went right over to the bedroom door and swung it open. Just as quickly, it was slammed behind him, the whole apartment seeming to shake from it.

"Ivan," she groaned as she struggled to get to her feet. At nearly eight months pregnant, it wasn't always simple. Taking the book with her, she went after him. "Was it honestly that bad?"

"That bad? That bad? It was fucking horrible. That man is a fucking idiot."

Ivan was there in the cramped bedroom, angrily jerking his gloves off his hands, tossing them back down in anger onto the dresser in front of him. After he was done with that, he moved to slip off the cloak he'd taken to wearing recently. Rushing to his side (as well as a woman in her position could), his wife moved to help him.

"What did he say?" she ventured as he just glared into the mirror above the dresser, huffing slightly. "Ivan, just tell me-"

"He said that I'm not ready. When I challenged that there's no way that I'm not and that he's getting far too old to even run the guild, he accused me of trying to oust him."

"That's bullshit."

"Yeah, I know." He jerked away from her when, after removing his cloak, she moved to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Don't touch me."

"Iv-"

"I said don't!" Going over to the bed then, he moved to sit down and unlace his boots, still grumbling under his breath. "The man can't even file damn paperwork anymore. Can't hardly remember the members of his own damn guild. Doesn't even give me, his son, a damn chance at S-Class. But I'm the one that's ill prepared? Yeah, sure."

She only stood before him for a moment, shaking her head in silent agreement with him, before going to put his cloak and gloves away. When that was done, she moved to take a seat with him, on the end of the bed, being rather cautious to, as he put it, not touch him.

"What the hell does he want from me, huh?" Ivan was still working on getting his boots off and didn't glance at her. "Hell, I've done all he wanted. I've taken the lower jobs, I've taken the higher jobs. All alone. I've never leaned on anyone. And I damn sure haven't asked him for any special treatment."

Slowly, she nodded. "Of course not."

"I mean, if anyone deserved it, I definitely do."

That time, she frowned before nodding again, slowly. "Most definitely."

"Then he goes and acts like I'm over stepping my boundaries, like I'm asking for too much. Hell, what has he ever given me?"

"Noth-"

"Nothing! He never does. All he wants is want and want and want. Look after the guild for him, when he goes away on business. Fill in at the bar when someone doesn't show up. Don't take all the jobs, nope, because that's not fair to anyone else. I live in the a fucking shithole and he's telling me not to take jobs? As he lives in a fucking castle? What kinda man does that to his son? To his daughter-in-law? Huh? He knows that I need jewels, but he won't loan them to me, won't let me take the S-Class jobs to get them, and then says that I'm hording jobs? That I'm hiding fliers so that I can keep them until I'm ready to go out? He's a fucking idiot."

That hung in the air for a minute, at least, as they both just sat there. She was too afraid of saying the wrong thing to speak and he was just breathing heavily, trying to calm back down. It wasn't easy and he didn't accomplish it before he glanced at the woman, taking in her tied back blonde hair and wide eyes. That finally did it, as he was able to grin, if only to let her know that he wasn't pissed at her (wholly), before turning slightly so he could rest his forehead against hers.

Relaxing some as he reached up to cup the back of her neck, the woman smiled, leaning into him.

"Iris," he whispered as he pulled away, though he left his hand there. Eyes searching hers, he asked, "You were fine today?"

"Mmmm." Nodding, she said, "I spent the day decorating the baby's room. You didn't leave me many jewels, but-"

"I gave you all I had, woman. What more does the damn thing need anyways?" He took his hand away then as he faced forwards once more. Glancing down though, he frowned. "What's that in your hand?"

"Hnmm?" She'd forgotten, actually, Iris had, that she was still gripping that book and had to look down for herself. At the sight of it, she only sighed. "Nothing. Your day's been bad enough. You don't have to-"

"Let me see." Reaching over, he snatched it from her before glancing at the title. At the sight of it, she got a sideway glance from him. "This? This is what we've resorted to?"

"Really, Ivan, I was just looking."

"A damn name book?"

"I just couldn't decide on one and you've been stressed out with the guild and I-"

"What came of it then?" He asked, moving to hand her back the book. "Hmmm?"

"Nothing really," she admitted with a sigh. "I just can't figure one out. Everything sounds nice, but it just doesn't feel right. You know?"

Not really, but he nodded regardless. "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"I hope so."

Leaning over again, he rubbed his head against hers before getting to his feet. "Do you need anything?"

"Huh?"

"From the kitchen," he explained as he headed to the bedroom door and then, just as quickly, out of it. "Do you want something?"

"N-No. Just…try not to make a mess, okay? I just cleaned up in there."

That got a grumble, but he didn't turn back to say anything. Only passed through the living room and into the kitchen on the other side.

"You call this clean?" he grumbled at the sight of the plates in the sink. Shaking his head, he only went over to the cabinet to pull out one of his bottles of whiskey and a glass. He downed it as soon as he poured it and had to pour another immediately. And then another. And another. By the fourth, he managed to make it back to the living room before he finished it, though from there he only went to stretch out on the couch and sleep off his horrible day. Horrible life, if he could.

It just didn't make any sense to him. Sure, Ivan had screwed up in his life. A lot, actually. But he'd never purposely done anything to his father. Literally nothing. The women in his life, his mother, his friends, fine. He screwed all of them. Many times. But his father?

The man, however, seemed to take no exception to screwing him every single time. Hell, he wouldn't even let him _try_ at the S-Class trials. Him. A member of Fairy Tail his whole damn life. And for what? To waste it? Makarov should be glad that all he was asking for was for him to hand over the hall and leadership role. It was the least the man could do. The absolute least.

"Ivan? Are you okay?"

No. And he really wished that she'd just fuck off. He was trying to be alone. But he couldn't be. Not anymore. Since getting married all of four months ago (at his father's insistence, mind you, because he got her pregnant), he'd found it to be just as bleak as their entire relationship. And she couldn't even drink anymore, because of the baby, to numb things on her end, which didn't stop him any, but did put a damper the mood some.

"Fine," came his muffled response as he pressed his head harder into the cushion of the couch. "I'm fine."

It wasn't like there was much for her to do there, other than lay around with him and watch him drink himself into further anger, so he wasn't shocked when she left, off to go do something (he was certain she told him, but he didn't catch it), leaving him alone in, thanks to the sun going down, the dimming apartment. He thought that he'd enjoy it more, being alone, but he just felt, well, more alone.

Mmmm. He shouldn't drink so much. Either that or he should drink more. One or the other. But the in between stuff wasn't cutting it anymore that day than it ever was.

He went with drink more. It was the best option, after all. Also the reason that his father wasn't willing to lend him any jewels. Something about how they'd only get spent on more booze.

Heh. As if the man could talk. So Ivan did his drinking alone, in his own apartment. Makarov did it up at the guild for all to see. That made him better? If anything, all it did was make him look like a dumbass on a regular basis in front of those that were inferior to him.

Ivan would never do that. Never. Embarrass himself knowingly or un in front of his subordinates would be the last thing he'd do as the Master. But Makarov thought it made him closer to them. Made him relatable. Yeah, watching the ever aging man hit on the younger women in the hall was so relatable.

Disgusting. Disgraceful. And completely utter disrespect to the legacy that Master Precht had left him. Not to mention the first Master, Mavis.

But Ivan would redeem them. He would redeem them all. Makarov was allowing Fairy Tail to just become a good place and, maybe, once and awhile, take a job here or there. You know, when rent was due or whatever.

It was despicable. Completely.

The thing that haunted him most about it though was what exactly the man was coveting. Was it the power? The authority? Or…was there more?

For awhile then Ivan had begun to question himself about whether or not his father had something that he was hiding from him. It didn't come up often, but occasionally when the two would speak, especially about Fairy Tail, it seemed almost as if there was something…else lurking beneath his refusals to retire. Something that he didn't want Ivan to know about.

Not that he thought that his father was a horrible man. Not at all. He just…

There was definitely something. And he couldn't say for certain what that 'something' was, but it was definitely there. Denying its existence just wasn't acceptable. There was..something.

Gah! He just couldn't place it, couldn't figure it out. Questioning others on it had proven useless as his other guild mates were just as idiotic and in the dark as Makarov wanted them. And his father, well, he was shut lipped about whatever it was. Because, apparently, you couldn't trust your only son.

What a world to live in, huh?

Sick was what it was. What it all was. In fact, Ivan even felt sick in that moment.

Maybe it was the whiskery. Or the lack of it in his then empty glass.

His feet couldn't help, but to snag against the coffee table as he stumbled to his feet, cursing the entire time. Being able to catch himself didn't make him feel any better, but did add a massive amount of dizziness to the situation that he found himself in which was something. Nothing good, but still something.

Falling back on the couch was his only option, him taking to sitting there for a few minutes, just grateful he'd managed to find his balance. And, once he was sure that he'd be keeping it, the tan skinned man got to his feet once more and set off for the kitchen.

One good thing about the woman not being able to drink was that his whiskey lasted much longer. Err, it did, on days when he wasn't s feeling as crummy as he was at the moment.

By the time she got home hours later, he'd gone through the bottle and, after, of course, trashing the kitchen she'd cleaned, passed out on the couch.

"Ivan," she sighed gently as she only went to get him a blanket and stroke his head a bit, smoothing out his black hair. He woke up, or at least regained some consciousness, and mumbled out something about how he'd be better in the morning and she nodded, because there was no arguing with the man, before going to bed herself, all alone in the bedroom.

It was probably for the best, anyways.

Bright and early the next morning, they were both awakened by a sharp knocking on the door. Ivan, who around three in the morning had shifted to the bedroom, only pulled a pillow over his head and told her not to answer it.

"I have to," she groaned as she got up. "It might be something important."

He couldn't think of a damn thing that would meet that qualification, but then again, he couldn't much think of anything in his current state.

"Give me a minute," she had to call out to whoever it was as she hurriedly (or at least attempted to be) slipped something on. Under her breath and with a glance back at her husband, she added, "Or five."

Eventually she did get to the door, though she'd more or less given up on the person still being there. They were though. And it was honestly the last person she wanted to see. Which, given the way her life was turning out, she should have been expecting, but hey.

"Morning," Makarov greeted in a far too cheerful way for a man that had sent her husband into a drinking spell the night before. "My son around?"

"W-Well," she began slowly, not sure what to say. "He's asleep right now, but-"

"Really? So late?" The short man had his hands clasped behind his back and only hummed slightly, rocking on his feet. "Well, go wake him then, and I'll wait. Tell me, Iris, have you had breakfast yet?"

"No," she told him with a frown. "And Ivan's really not-"

"Great. You and Ivan both get dressed and we can go out, hmmm? Lots to discuss."

The woman wasn't from his guild and, other than through Ivan, had no dealings with the man. Still, in the past two years of being with Ivan, she knew enough to not be particularly fond of him. Not that she disliked him either. It really just depended on Ivan's view of the man at the current time and, as the previous night made clear, at the moment it was far from positive.

"I really don't think so." It was such an easy out for her the past few months and, already a master at it, she moved to rest a hand on her growing belly. "Really. I don't feel well and-"

Nodding, he said, "Then come. I will make you tea."

"I don't-"

"Surely the two of you have tea," he prodded. "Don't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then we will share a cup," he decided as he moved then to come into the apartment, "as my son finds it in himself to awaken. You go get on that and I'll set a pot to boil, hmmm?"

She knew from experience that once the man was in the house, there was no getting him out. No use in trying either. And, with a sigh, she moved to shut the door.

"A quick cup," she said. "And let's not bother Ivan. He… He's not well himself today."

"Really? He seemed fine yesterday." Makarov changed course then on her and, instead of heading to the kitchen, walked right towards the hall that led to the bedroom. "I'll go speak with him then and you can go start the tea. Or just take a seat. I'll be with you in a moment."

Considering it wasn't his apartment, she wasn't sure what kind of authority he had to declare such a thing, but decided to let Ivan deal with it. She'd long given up on understanding the pair's relationship. It was much easier to let the bad times run their course and just pray for the good.

That day, however, brought none of the latter. She wasn't certain what it was Makarov came over for, other than to poke the bear, but he'd gotten him riled up either way. She didn't even start the tea, because she knew how it would end. It was always the same. Makarov would critique the way he was living, Ivan would call him a liar and claim that he was purposely stunting his ladder climbing in the guild. They'd only dissolve from there. From Ivan's drinking to the fact that he claimed Makarov drove his mother away, there was no shortness of shouting. And, when it was all said and done, all she was left with was a worked up man and a stack of jewels somewhere in the apartment that Makarov would somehow manage to place.

For her, he'd tell her. To use for the baby's things. Not Ivan. And if he found out that it was going to the man, then he wouldn't bother leaving it for her. That, if she was being honest, was probably his real reason for venturing over there. He had to know that it had been over two weeks since Ivan took a job and, at that time, she wasn't working herself.

Because she knew that Ivan was twisting things, deep down. That the man wasn't as evil as he said. And that, yes, Ivan had been caught hording fliers for his own gain or requesting the barmaid that put them up keep them for him, until he was ready for them. The only problem with this (and the idea of him being S-Class), was that while he liked the prestige of doing such things, Ivan, really, didn't do much of anything.

But, oh, he was so proficient in his magic. Excellent, really. A true talent. And, when he would take a job, he would do magnificently on it. Even one meant for a team, he could take it solo and be done with it in no time.

The only problem was that he didn't, well, really like to. He'd much rather just stay in the guildhall, silently judging the others and fighting with his father. Honestly, she was nearly convinced that arguing was actually sport for the two of them at that point.

After Makarov left, Ivan was still rather enraged and only pulled on some clothes before leaving. She didn't ask for where and he didn't offer up any explanation. Just that he was going out.

It gave her a chance, anyways, to find where Makarov left the money. It was on the dresser, shockingly enough, tucked under that name book she'd had before. It wasn't much. Just a few jewels. But enough. Makarov had told her before that, even though he and his son weren't seeing eye to eye, he wanted his grandson taken care of.

Picking the book up as well as the jewels, which she went to stuff away somewhere first, she headed over to the bed to lay back down. Though it was an excuse, she wasn't lying to Makarov completely when she said that her stomach was upset, because it was. Not that their fighting had helped much, but still.

She cracked open the book then to read over some of the names again. Not that she was really expecting to find something; she'd probably just let Ivan end up naming the kid. Still though, it was a good way to pass some time and help her fall back asleep once more. She figured when Ivan showed back up, she'd have him finally get around to putting the baby's crib together. It was still sitting in pieces in the other room and, well, it was never too early to be prepared she figured. And really, given how looming her due date was, it wasn't even early. More on time, if not a tad late.

The same could be said for choosing the poor child's name though and, with renewed interest, she began by just starting on a random page. She was still at it, too, when Ivan came back and hour later.

"You look better," she remarked as he came bearing a box of donuts for her. "Ivan."

Grunting, he fell into bed next to her. He saw the book that was lying on the bed at the point and only said, "You at it again?"

"I just want to get him named and have it over with," she said simply, sitting up to open the box. "Don't you?"

"Name him after me."

"Keep dreaming."

He took a donut for himself. "Shouldn't be this hard to name a kid, should it?"

"This is a big decision, Ivan," she insisted.

"Is it?"

"Yes." Staring at him round eyes, she said, "This could impact his entire life."

"Really now?"

"Could you imagine if your name wasn't Ivan? Hmmm? You don't think that would change things? Not even a little?"

"All I'm saying," he complained through a mouth of fried goodness, "is that it's just a name. And the kid won't even know if for, what, a year at least? We can change it at any time."

"Ivan."

"We could."

"I think," she told him then, "that most people have some sorta sentimental tie to a name."

"Like what?" he grumbled. "Name it after a dead dog."

"You know what I mean."

"Do not." Grunting once more, he suggested simply, "Your parents are dead, huh? You wanna name him after your father or something?"

"No." And her tone was just as dead as they were when she said it, tipping him off that he had no said the right thing. At all. "I don't."

"Alright then," he sighed. "So that's out."

"Sentimental just doesn't have to mean death."

"Hn."

"It could be anything, really."

"Like?" He moved to grab another donut.

"Mmmm…something about the day we met," she said with a grin. "Do you remember it?"

He blinked. Then he glanced at her. "Sort of. I remember the day after."

Grinning, she said, "You were drunk."

That was true. Back then though, it was cute when he got drunk. Or at least it was the first few times.

"I was just walking home from work one day when you ran into me. Literally. You were drunk and lost and said that you just had to get back to Magnolia. When I told you that we were still in Magnolia, you were, like, shocked."

"Was I?" he asked, though it was more to just let her think he was actually paying attention.

"Mmmhmm. You didn't believe me. So I offered to walk you home and you were so happy. You kept leaning on me and telling me how glad you were that I was there and, gosh, Ivan, we must have walked around the two aimlessly forever. I thought about ditching you a few times even."

"You should have."

"W-What?"

"Just letting a supposedly drunk man lead you around." He shook his head. "It's not safe. I could have been some sorta maniac."

"Could have been?"

"Iris-"

"Just be thankful," she told him with a smile, "that I was."

"Mmmm."

Continuing then, she said, "You didn't lead me back to your home though. You led me back to Fairy Tail. Which, when we got there, I found out you'd just been kicked out of for being belligerent. It was crazy to me that you possibly could be. I mean, you were being so nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you."

It was her turn to hum. When she did it, he only frowned.

"Iris." And the name he said her name when he was annoyed was so absolute. Shifting closer, he stared into her eyes. "I'm always nice to you."

"I know."

"I love you." His voice wasn't great and his eyes were still rather bloodshot, but she never doubted him when he would say that. It wasn't often, it never had been, but she'd long convinced herself that it just meant more that way.

And didn't it?

Huh?

"I love you too."

And then, finished with his donuts, he moved to lay down, right next to her, mumbling under his breath, "I asked about you the next day."

"What?"

"The next day," he said. "When I sobered up. I asked everyone if they remembered the blonde with the beautiful eyes that helped me back to the guild. And none of them had any idea who you were, of course, so it took me awhile to track you down. I was rather hungover, after all."

"After all."

"But I found you," he said. "Remember?"

"I remember you by chance coming into the shop I work at, looking for something to alleviate your headache."

"But," he insisted, "I was looking."

"Previously."

"But I was."

"I know."

"And I found you."

"Happened upon me."

"Iris, I was looking for you."

"I believe you."

Shifting then, he said, "But short of calling the kid Sober or Lost, I don't quite think a name sprang out to me in that."

"It wasn't really the story in particular that I was going for."

"Then what?"

"Do you remember the weather? When we met? And leading up to that?"

"No."

"Ivan, I used to mention it all the time," she complained. "Remember? It was really overcast and we about had a flood the week previously from all the rain. But when we met, not three days later, the sun came back out and it didn't for nearly a month."

"I remember that you gave me those pills for my headache for free-"

"You're not funny."

"What are you telling me then, woman? Huh?" He let out a long breath. "You want to name the kid Flood? Or Sun? Or Sunny? What?"

"I was thinking more…symbolic."

"Symbolic and sentimental, huh?"

She knew she was losing him and soon enough the two of them would either fight or he'd leave, but decided to keep going.

"I just… I don't know. It's stupid, but-"

"If it gets this damn kid a name," he grumbled, "then I'll hear you out."

"I've just been thinking about it and it's kinda… Like… It was dark, right? When it was raining?"

"If you say so."

"But then the rain went away. You know, when we met. Then it was light."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Ivan-"

"You shouldn't drink. It's not good for the bab-"

"I knew you'd think it was stupid."

"Iris, I just-"

"No. Never mind. Let's just-"

"Light, you said?" He moved then to grab the book and flip through it, looking for names with just that meaning. "You want light, woman? I'll get you a name, huh? One that you love. Huh?"

"Ivan, I've already looked at all of them. That's the problem," she said with a frown. "I don't like them."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

"I don't know. I really liked the idea, anyways, about the baby being our light and-"

"Then he will be." And he looked up from the book then, moving to press his forehead against hers before pressing a kiss to her lips. "I'll make us a name, alright? From all the other ones. Make one up, huh?"

"You can't just make up a name."

"My father," he grumbled, "is named Makarov. I think I can just make up a name."

"Ivan-"

"I got this." And then he grinned, truly for once, not just for her, but for both of them, before going back to the book. 'I'll figure out a name for our boy. And it'll mean light. Because that's what he is, huh? Our light." Then he paused, as if in thought, before saying, "Things will be so much better when he gets here. I promise."

She didn't believe him, but at the same time, wished it to be true so much that, well, it was hard to discredit it.

He'd be their light, their little son would be, and he'd always be there. They'd always be there. All that was left was for him to arrive. And she couldn't wait till then.


	3. Hands: X798

  


"I-I," Laxus stuttered as he stood there in the guildhall, unsure of his next move or even his next sentence. Glancing around first at his wife and then at Erza, he finally said, "I have to go. Go talk to Gramps. About this."

He reached over then and took the papers back from Mirajane who didn't put up much of a fight, really. Only watched as Laxus took a moment to collect himself before heading off. Then it was just her and Erza.

An awkward beat passed between the two women before Mirajane glanced at her and said, "I need to go after him. Can you have Kinana fill your request?"

"Of course." Erza bowed her head then at Mirajane, unsure of what else to do. "I am sorry for your loss."

Mirajane wasn't sure what to say to that, really, as it wasn't much of one for her and she wasn't so sure if it was for Laxus either. Still, she nodded before saying, "Thank you. And can you tell Kinana that I had to go and will be back later? Or send Lisanna to fill in for me?"

"Of course."

It was kinda hard to catch Laxus, really, as when he was upset, he took to walking rather fast. Mirajane had to sprint to catch up. And when she did, he was less than enthused.

"Demon," he complained when she called his name out from further down the sidewalk. "Go back to the guild. Now. This isn't something that you-"

"Just wait." She grabbed his arm when she was close enough, pulling him to a stop. "Laxus, I'm going."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to. I want you to go back to the guild and work. I need to speak with Gramps alone."

"And you can." She slipped her hand into his, interlacing their fingers. "But I'm still going with you."

The two stared at one another for a moment before Laxus sighed and gave in. He had a tendency of doing that with her.

"Fine," he caved. It was easier than arguing anyhow. "Just come on. And damn it, Mira, it's cold out. Here."

She had to let go of his hand then as, in her haste to catch him, she'd left her jacket at the hall and he was slipping out of his big one to put around her.

"You have more to think about than yourself," he grumbled as he laid it over her shoulders. "And me. It was snowin' out yesterday. What? You don't think if you catch a cold it won't affect the baby? Use your head."

She only hummed slightly, knowing he was snapping at her more to keep himself from thinking of the situation at hand. "Sorry, dragon."

Once he had her all bundled up, Laxus took her hand again. "I just don't think you need to walk all the way back home with me."

"I do."

And she didn't particularly care what he thought on the subject.

"I'm fine," he insisted to her. "And I don't need you here, literally holding my hand the entire way. Seriously, demon. So she's dead. Who cares? I thought she'd been this entire time."

"Then why are we going to talk to-"

"Because," Laxus said, a slight growl in his ton as he spoke. "I'm going to ask him why, exactly, it was that I was told she was dead if this whole time she's just been-"

"You don't have to talk about it right now." Mirajane squeezed his hand and glanced up at him. "We can when we get home."

"I just," he grumbled, "had a lot to do today. This week. And now I have to go down there and...and… And I guess I have to figure out where Ivan is and inform him. Right? I guess. You know what? No. I don't. Screw him. And her. I don't have to do anything. Let her body rot in their morgue. It's not my job. Right? Mira?"

Again, all she could do was hum, softly and sadly. Under her breath, she only added, "You can go down there. The guild will be fine."

"No, it won't. I'm the Master. I can't just go run off on stupid-"

"It's not stupid, Lax." Again, she glanced up, blue eyes shining with tears that still had yet to fall. "She's your mother."

He let that fall between them as the only sound either made was the crunch of the snow that had fallen overnight against their boots as they walked. That time, he squeezed her hand.

"You need mittens."

"What?"

"Your hands are cold," he said, glancing down at her. "You need mittens."

"Lax-"

"Do you not have any? You have to. Did you just not wear them?"

"They're with my coat," she told him. "I took them off at the guild and-"

"You should have gotten them and your coat before you came out here. It's cold out, woman."

She knew that he was changing the subject on purpose, but couldn't tell if it was to mix her up or to keep himself from thinking about what he'd just found out. Deciding not to call him out on it, she only nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," he grumbled. "Just think a bit."

"Of course, Lax."

They both kept silent the rest of the way, Laxus only letting go of her hand when they got to the door and he had to fish the key out of his pocket. As soon as he had and got the door open, he moved to retake it once more and lead her inside.

"Master," Mirajane called out as they stepped into the place, both shaking off any snow and leaving their boots by the door. "Are you up? Master?"

"I," Laxus grumbled to her as he moved to take his coat off her before hanging it on the rack by the door, "am Master."

"Oh, Lax."

"Gramps." He bounded off then, further into the house. "You home? We gotta talk."

He found the old man in his bedroom, attempting to craftily hide the fact he was eating in bed (Mira had told both men that she was tired of the crumbs in the beds and having to get the stains out of the sheets from when they inevitably dropped their food) by shoving the plate underneath his pillow. At the sight of his grandson though, the elderly man let out a breath and settled back on his bed, plate in his lap once more.

"I thought I heard Mirajane," the man said simply as his grandson came further into the room. "She's been quite the dictator about-"

"Look at this." Laxus just marched across the small bedroom and over to his grandfather, tossing the papers at him. "Something you need to tell me?"

"Come now." Makarov didn't even glance up at him. Just went back to eating. "Surely we haven't come to this, have we? I only told Mira that-"

"Come to what?" Laxus had gone in there, ready for an argument, but the man's words made him stop. "What do you think-"

"Is this not an invoice for that new lacrima Mirajane bought for me?"

"No," Laxus said slowly. "And what kinda lacrima?"

"My old movie lacrima broke."

"Why would we buy you a new one?"

"Mira's the one who broke it."

"Why was she using your-"

"Because yours is broken as well."

"What the hell is she doing to-"

"If this isn't about that," Makarov cut him off, rather than reveal that it was in fact him that had broken both and Mira was only the fall guy, before he glanced at the papers. Frowning down at them, he read a few lines before looking back up at Laxus. "Oh, boy, this is about-"

Laxus, remembering then what he was in there for, went back to being pissed. "Yeah, Gramps, it is. What the hell? I thought she was already dead. You said-"

"Give me a moment," the man complained, reading over the papers. "Would you?"

"No, I won't. Hell, she's been alive this entire time? You and Ivan both said-"

"I know what we said," Makarov snapped at him. "Why would they send you this then?"

"What do you mean? I'm her son, ain't I?" Looking off, he said, "And they didn't. They sent it to Ivan first, but it came to the hall, so I trashed it. Then you got one and the demon insisted that we open it-"

"Hmmm." Makarov slowly sat down the papers and moved his plate to the side before getting out of bed. "This is quite troubling. That Iris would still have us listed as her next of kin-"

"Listed? They probably just saw her last name and looked you two up," Laxus grumbled. "And that ain't the point. You guys lied to me. My mother's been alive this entire time and-"

"There is much to discuss, yes, but right now I believe the most important thing is that I go down there and collect the body, yes?"

"No," Laxus said with a frown as the man headed to his closet to get dressed. He wasn't sure if it was just because it was the first time he was getting up or if he literally was planning on leaving that minute, but decided not to ask. "And what? You think you're going?"

"You said that it was sent to me," he pointed out. "So yes. I-"

"Gramps, you can't even go to the market anymore without getting lost."

That made the old man turn to glare at him. "It was one time. And it was those dang pills that your wife makes me take. They get me all confused and-"

"If you go," Laxus complained, "I might as well go and collect two bodies. No way you'd ever make it back."

"Watch your mouth, boy. I'm just as alert as I've always-"

"No one's going," the man told him simply.

"What?"

"No one's going." Laxus went to pick back up the papers. "I've lived in the same damn town my whole life. Gone to the same guild. And that woman can't come find me? But I'm supposed to pay to have her damn body buried? No. You're not going and neither am I. If they can get in contact with Ivan and he wants her corpse, he can have it, 'cause I sure as hell don't. It don't deserve to be buried with ours."

"Laxus-"

"That's final, Gramps." He turned then to walk back out of the room. "And hurry up and get dressed. Then come into the living room; we got shit to talk about."

Laxus found Mirajane in their bedroom down the hall, no doubt hoping to overhear a few things. He just closed the door behind him before going to join her on the edge of the bed.

"Someone," she told him softly as he only grabbed one of her hands again (the ones that he claimed he didn't need holding his) and began toying with her fingers, "has to go down there."

"Where?"

"Dragon-"

"No." He kept staring down at her hand. "I'm not going and Gramps is too old to even leave the street on his own. They can burn the body or whatever the hell they do with unclaimed-"

"Then we'll have it sent here."

"Someone has to identify it with certainty," he told her with a shake of his head. "I guess she didn't even have any real family then? That they went to us? Or did they just not care about her? Like they didn't me?"

Leaning against his shoulder, Mirajane said, "I'll go."

"What?"

"I've seen pictures of her," she said softly. "Master has some. Of her and Ivan. I know what she looks like. Or what she did. And-"

"Why are you-"

"Laxus, this is your mother," she told him simply. "And my mother-in-law. We have to do something."

"Why? She didn't do anything for me."

"That's not true."

He let go of her hand. "Yes, it is. She left-"

"When you were four. I've seen the photos. That means that she-"

"That's even worse. How could you-"

"I'm not saying," Mira defended, "that you have to love her or that we have to give her some sort of fancy funeral. But we're going down there to look at the body and claim it. Not let it be buried in some unmarked grave. She should come home."

"This isn't her home." He was glaring then, down at Mira's hand, as she left it resting in his lap, waiting to be taken again. "This is my home."

"It can be both."

"No," he told her darkly. "It can't."

Turning her head up to look at him, Mira said softly, "We never talked about that. About her leaving. Or what happened. I mean, I know you were too young to-"

"We're not going to," he said. "So don't ask."

"Dragon, I know this is a lot to take in-"

"No," he told her. "It's not. It's just normal life. Nothing's changed for me. I thought she was dead, now she is. Great. Perfect, even. I never have to accidentally run into her or anything like that. It's great, actually."

"It is not." Mirajane sniffled then and, with a groan, he moved to take her hand once more. "It's sad."

"Don't cry again," he told her with a frown. "Seriously."

"I can't help it."

"You didn't even know her."

"But I feel bad for her. And whatever it was that made her leave you."

"Selfishness."

"Laxus-"

"She," he grumbled, "ditched out on me. Just like Ivan. Would you expect me to go pick up his corpse and weep over it and all the lost memories?"

"Yes."

"Well, you'll be disappointed. The next time I want to see that man is in hell. Her too."

Mirajane kissed his cheek then, gently, before whispering against it, "I hate this for you. That you have so much...hate in you. It's not good."

"I don't hate them," he told her as he stared straight ahead. "I have no feelings for them at all. The only good thing they ever did was leave me with Gramps and not force me to go with them. Like what? I'm supposed to be pissed? Or angry? Or confused? I'm not. I'm not a little kid anymore, Mirajane. It was so much better for me, that they were assholes and left. That I was here. In Fairy Tail. Instead of off with Ivan or her and doing whatever. Not having a home. Or someone to take care of me. So much better. Why should _I_ have to be the one to hate them? Huh? For not loving me? That's their fault. They're the ones that screwed up. Not me. I didn't do anything. I just...I… Fuck, Mira."

Resting her head against the side of his, she said, "I love you. So much."

"I know."

"And you are so right. You were just where you needed to be."

"Yeah."

"Their loss. No one else's."

"Right."

"And if you had gone with them, we'd have never met. Or if we did and you were with your dad, we'd have been enemies."

"I know."

"I hate that you didn't have them, but if they weren't good for you-"

"I know, Mira."

"Fairy Tail loves you," she pointed out. "It loves us all."

"I just wish..."

"It's alright." His cheek got another kiss. "I wish for mine all the time too."

"No." He shook his head a little. "I just wish that she'd stayed away. Him too. Why do they have to keep coming back? Just leave me alone. I don't need them. I never did. And now...now I won't ever have her."

Shaking her hand free of his then, Mirajane moved to wrap her arms around her husband before nuzzling against him. Taking a deep breath, she said softly, "We'll go down there. So that you can get passed this."

He snorted. "There is no this, Mirajane. There's nothing to get passed. She wasn't there and she's still not."

"We're still going," she told him. "And we'll just look at her...body and then we'll take her back to Magnolia with us. We'll bury her and then get right back to our own lives."

He didn't get a chance to agree or disagree with this as, suddenly, there was a knock at their bedroom door. Both of them shot their heads up as Makarov called from the other side, "Are you in there, boy? I've been waiting."

"At least," Laxus sighed, pressing a gently kiss to his wife's head, "he's finally grasped the concept of knocking."

It had only taken, oh, months, but what could you do?

Getting to his feet, Laxus left Mirajane behind as he went to open the door. Makarov was standing there and, upon peeking around his grandson, spoke to Mirajane.

"Morning, Mira," he greeted to which she gave him a soft grin.

"Morning, Master."

"I'm," Laxus grumbled as he moved to gently press a hand on Makarov's shoulder and guide him back the other way and to the living room, "the Master."

This didn't get the usual giggle out of Mirajane or wisecrack from Makarov, but given the circumstances, he didn't hold it against them.

"Come on, Gramps," he said then as they walked off, leaving the demon behind. "We need to have a _talk._ "

There was something in the way that his grandson said that that tipped Makarov off that it would have a lot less to do with talking and far more to do with yelling. Still, he knew that he was in the wrong and had to finally fess up.

Only, once they sat down, neither new how to start. Laxus sat in his recliner, glaring at the man as Makarov sat on the couch, staring at him and coming up just as blank as far as words went. Slowly though, something come to him and he was able to speak.

"You must understand, Laxus," he told him softly, "that your father and Iris did not get along. Ever, truly. And perhaps I had a hand in this by trying to force them to."

"I don't care about their damn relationship," Laxus told him with a heavy frown. "I want to know about why I was told she was dead. What? Did you honestly think that? Or were you lying?"

"Truth be told, after all these years, I did begin to suspect as much," Makarov sighed. "I always assumed that something happened. And to find out all these years later that she has been living this entire time, springs many questions into my mind that I suppose, with her dead, I'll never learn."

"I asked you a question," Laxus said.

"And what was that then?"

"Damn it, Gramps, I don't want to yell at you," his grandson told him harshly. And it was true. The man was so old that at that point, Laxus usually avoided such a thing. "But if you aren't straight with me-"

"It won't be as simple as that I fear," the elderly man told him with a sigh. "Your mother was a good woman, but your father… Laxus, she left and there wasn't much I could do. Ivan didn't want to talk about it and you were so young. For a long time, we didn't tell you anything about her and only acted indifferent when you asked because it was easier. But when you grew… It was Ivan who told you that. That she had died. And what was I supposed to do? If he was the one telling you such a thing?"

"Try being a decent human being next time," Laxus told him bitterly.

"Ivan is my son, as much as I hate to admit it at times. And we were still working through many things at that point. Even if Iris wasn't dead, it wasn't like she ever came back. What difference did it make?"

Laxus wasn't sure. It was the same thing he'd kept trying to insist to Mirajane, after all. That he'd thought she was dead and now she was. Who cared? Dead was dead, after all, and she was very much so that then. Would it have been better for him then, knowing that she'd left him and just decided not to come back? Instead of being able to rationalize that she was dead and that was why she didn't care anymore?

"I would have been able," Laxus told him softly, "to make my own choices. About what I felt. That's what difference it would make. I knew that she left and then that she died. After leaving me. And that I'd never be able to ask her why. And always wonder if she'd have come back if she could. Now though, I know that she was out there and I could have found her and asked her. But you and Ivan didn't give me the chance. That is what difference it would have made, Gramps."

The older man only sat back, there on the couch, and let that hang in the air for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that your mother died and that you never got to know her. I won't try to explain away anything that happened, but-'

"I'm not mad at you." He let out a sigh. "I thought I was, but I can't be."

It was Ivan instead that he was reserving that for. Her too. Iris. His mother. Clinching his fists together, he wished Mira was there, so he could slip his hand back into hers, to calm himself once more.

Heh. Maybe he did need to hold her hand after all.

"We're going down there," he told the man then, softly. "To...to claim her. Me and Mirajane. So who do you want to stay with you while we're gone? Bickslow or Freed or Lisanna-"

"I," Makarov complained, sitting up taller then, "am not an invalid and you will not treat me as one."

"Gramps-"

"I only moved in here because your wife insisted. No other reason. At all."

"I know that. I just-"

"You are not going to have someone in here trying to take care of me. You two don't even take care of me."

No, they only made his food, cleaned up after him, clothed him, and, apparently, funded his movie lacrima need.

"Yeah, Gramps," he sighed, making the decision for him then. Freed would do just fine. "I know."

The journey there meant train tickets, which Laxus reflected on then. He hated that thing. The train. And the money to get her back to Magnolia wouldn't be cheap. And if Erza left on that job, he'd have to assign someone else to watch over the hall in his absence. Then there was the hassle of getting a burial plot. It wasn't like he was just made of jewels, either. Not with a wife and a Gramps to support. And factoring in the new baby and all the things Mira was buying in preparation, well, Laxus just couldn't afford a death at the moment.

Especially one that he already thought occurred.

Pushing up from the couch, he grumbled something to Makarov about the conversation not being over before heading out of the room and to the kitchen. In there he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, really, other than to get away from his grandfather to think.

He went over to the counter, thinking about starting the coffee pot, before giving up on it and just resting his hands on the counter top, hunching over and breathing deeply.

Was it grief that was pooling in his stomach or something else? Sorrow? Could you feel such a thing for something that you had no connection to? He felt bad when he read in the paper that someone was killed. Was it the same as that?

No. Because, as much as he hated it, deep down he knew that he did have a connection to Iris. She was his mother. And, even though it didn't mean a lot, it still meant something.

Laxus wasn't sure how long he was standing there, lost in his own confusion, before it happened. It felt like awhile. Suddenly, he wasn't alone in the room and Mira was there, at his side. Instead of saying anything, she only moved to lay a hand atop one of his and just stand there in front of the coffee pot too.

Eventually, she whispered, "Would you like some coffee, Master?"

He blinked. Then he glanced down at her.

Leaning over, Laxus pressed a kiss to her head before saying, "Yeah, demon. I would."

"You know it'll get better," she asked softly instead of moving to start on it, "right, dragon?"

"Of course, demon."

And just from the feeling of her hand on his, it already had.


	4. Glass: X761

  


The baby cried all the time. Which, honestly, Iris was expecting. The poop, the vomit, the tears, the wails, the constant need of attention. It all just came with the territory of having a baby. She even was expecting to do it alone. What with Ivan being a mage and gone constantly, there was hardly ever even a thought in her mind that he would be around much. That having a child would change much.

She wasn't expecting, however, to hate it when she _wasn't_ alone.

Ivan was impossible to deal with. Not that she should have been too surprised by this, but she was shocked at how little her patients with the his usual antics were. Well, she was and she wasn't, actually, as with a crying baby who was in constant need of attention, she should have very little patients to hand out. His drinking and yelling intermingled with calm and loving words just wasn't suiting her those days. At all.

Then there was his father. As someone that had lost both her parents in her teen years, she was rather accustom to being without them. Having Makarov constantly in her hair, wanting to be around the baby, wanting to deal with him, well, it wasn't that it wasn't unwelcome, but rather it just made her uncomfortable.

Not that the man was...creepy or anything. Though she didn't have much to do with magic herself, growing up in Magnolia and it's surrounding cities, she'd heard of Fairy Tail and it's great Master. Err, Masters, as it were, as the change of hands had taken place at some point, but she knew of Makarov than the previous one. Ivan talked about him enough and, though his words were enough to make her have a slight distaste for the man, it wasn't enough to wipe away the high praises she heard from others about him.

They all seemed to be in love with him, the other guild members. The few that Ivan brought around, anyhow. He didn't seem to get along with very many of his guild mates, but then again, that had been a given from the beginning. If the two of them had a love/hate relationship, then the one that he had with Fairy Tail was adore/abhor.

As for Makarov and his father though, it appeared to her to be mostly hate. Though at times she could get fired up for Ivan against the man, mostly she just saw them both as childish. And as such, found it better to keep Makarov far away from her husband and, by proxy, her son. It wasn't that she didn't like him. Not at all. But rather she liked her sanity a lot more. If Ivan found out that the man was around or came home to find him over, well, there went all of the sanity for the rest of the day. Possibly the week.

It wasn't fair. The two of them were making her first few months with the baby worse than they had to be. If Ivan wasn't pissed at her or drunk, then she had Makarov lurking around under the pretense that he wanted to help her out with the baby which, yes, that might have been true, but it also had a lot to do with seeing his son. Or at least hoping to.

He showed up whenever he felt like, Makarov did. It almost became a daily occurrence. And just telling him that Ivan was around didn't alleviate it any.

"You think that's why I came?" he would snort before just walking past her and into the house. "I came for my grandson. That's all."

She had to admit, the baby did respond well to him. That had to do with, of course, him coming over more and more often. Ivan wasn't very interested in his son for the most part and Makarov made up for it in some ways. She knew that she couldn't be the only one that the baby was around, after all. He was rather clingy to begin with. The few friends that she had over were welcomed with his whines and complaints if they dared attempt to pick him up. He would tolerate Ivan occasionally and her always, but his grandfather was alright.

Sometimes.

Other time he got spit up on.

"Oh, boy," the man would sigh when this happened. "Did like your lunch, did you?"

The man had really taken a liking to the child, despite that. He would take him out on walks, rock him to sleep after a meal, even burp him if need be. He, more than once, told Iris to go take a nap or shower as he watched the child all on his own.

"I don't know," she said the first time that he offered. "I don't think-"

"Come now. I raised your husband, didn't I?" Then the man thought about that and shook his head. "Do not hold it against me."

Iris didn't have much experience around children. When she got pregnant, she babysat for a few of her friends in an attempt to get more accustomed to it, but she was nowhere near on the level of prepared that Makarov was for all of the baby's little problems that she just couldn't figure out. Knew how to swaddle him up just right and how to soothe him much later when the teething started. As horrible as the fallout always was when Ivan and Makarov crossed paths, the man was a godsend in some ways.

As months came to pass slowly, things fell into a more easy rhythm. Makarov and Ivan didn't reach a peace, but rather the latter found himself in need of his father. Sort of. Ivan was known for causing problems with other guild members and, like so typically occurred, it fell to Makarov to ease tensions. Which he did and he always would to the best of his ability, he told Iris.

"Ivan is my son," he sighed one day as he took to changing the baby for her. "And nothing goes above that."

Her husband, of course, had a vastly different opinion on what had taken place.

"Once again," he growled the night after Makarov got two of the guild's spearheads that were more than ready to oust Ivan into forgiving him or, at the very least, ignoring him for the time being, "he's ruined everything."

"Ivan," Iris sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed, nursing the baby, while watching the man pace back and forth. "I'm sure that was not what-"

"Oh, you're sure, Iris? Of something that you know nothing about?"

"I just think that your father is only trying to help." She glanced down at the baby then as he began to fuss and, sighing, she got to her feet. Shifting the child in her arms, she said, "That's all."

"Shut up."

"Ivan-"

"You don't know anything. He constantly does this. Undermines me."

"Well, he is the Master, so-"

"And what the hell do you know about guilds then? Huh?"

"N-Nothing, but-"

"That's right. You don't know anything. So just shut up."

Rolling her eyes, she headed right back out of the room and to the baby's tiny nursery. It was much easier at times to avoid him than it was to actually argue with him. Or even agree for that matter.

He didn't seem to have followed her though, into the bedroom, which Iris counted up to a win. Until she heard him leave their bedroom and start for the kitchen and no doubt the liquor which was honestly the last thing she wanted.

"There you go," she sighed, gently moving to place her baby into his crib where he whined just as much. "I'll be right back, alright? Just hold on."

That did absolutely nothing to cease his cries, but that couldn't be her concern at the moment. No, the thought of Ivan tearing it up in the kitchen was enough to get her to go check in on him.

"Ivan?" she called softly. "Is everything around?"

"The hell wouldn't it be?"

"Well, I just heard you drop something is all."

"A glass. A fucking glass. Is that such a big deal?"

"I didn't say it was," she assured him as she made it into the kitchen to find the broken glass shattered all around. "Here, let me-"

"No." He was intent on that too as he glared at her. "Go take care of the boy. I'm fine. I can clean up after myself. I'm not helpless, woman."

"I know that."

"Then go away," he complained as he went to get the broom. "He's crying in there, you know."

"He just wants attention."

"Then go give it to him before- Damn it, Iris."

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she insisted after her sharp intake of breath alerted him that some of the shards had managed to pierce the bottom of her foot as she'd taken to walking towards him. "Just-"

"Let me see."

"It's just-"

"Here." It was effortless too, the way he moved to lift her into his arms in a fireman's carry, taking her over to the counter which he sat her upon. "Let me get it out. And where are the bandages?"

It took a few minutes for him to get her all set again, but he did so with an amount of patience he didn't typically possess. She could tell that his anger was just bubbling under the surface from the clearly enmity evident on his face. All she had to do was say one thing and it'd implode.

But she didn't, because she never did. And, once he had her foot all bandaged up, he helped her to her feet before allowing her to lean against him so she didn't put any weight on the injured one.

"Here." He took her to the bedroom where he gently deposited her on the bed. "Better?"

"Mmmm. The baby-"

"I have him." He took his pillow too, from the other side of the bed, before moving to prop thee wounded foot up. "Just rest. The bleeding should stop soon."

Iris wasn't so sure about letting him take care of the baby in that moment. It wasn't as if he never did, but rather only when he was in an extremely good mood. And, at the moment, he happened to be in an extremely bad one. Still, her foot was in pain and, well, if he was offering, that was good enough for her.

He'd turned off the light though, before he left the room, and it was dark in there. Though she stayed up long enough to hear that the baby stopped his whines at one point, she fell asleep before Ivan came back to bed. And, when she awoke, all was still in the tiny apartment. Her foot was in pain though and was probably what awoke her.

When she glanced over to the other side of the bed, she found Ivan absent and assumed that he was off in the kitchen or living room, passed out from his heavy night of drinking. And, with a groan and a grumble of just how she was going to manage to get him back into bed with her injury, she hobbled off to figure it all out.

Only, out in the hall, she saw that the kitchen and living room were dark and that it was the nursery instead that had a soft glow coming from behind the cracked door.

"Ivan?" she called softly, heading that way to poke her head in. It was the lamp that was turned out and, from it's light, she saw her husband stretched out on the floor, holding their son above his head. "What are you doing?"

"He likes this," was all the man said as the child giggled from where he was in the air, waving his feet and arms all around. "For some reason."

Actually, he liked it a lot. Out of sheer desperation, Ivan had attempted it more out of accident than anything else. He'd grown tired of walking the child back and forth and eventually just sat back on his butt before, slowly, falling onto his back, the boy in his hands the entire time. He couldn't quite recall why, but he then held him over his head and, lo and behold, that got him to shut up. And, other than the occasional drool that rained down on him, it wasn't too bad. The baby weighed a good fifteen pounds at that point, give or take, and was good resistance. A few times Ivan's arms got tired and he had to lay him on his chest, which the boy did not like, at all, which forced him to go right back to holding up him. It was a doable as a lazy workout.

"He hasn't fallen asleep yet?"

"No. He took a dump about twenty minutes ago though."

"Ivan."

"He did."

Leaning against the door frame then, she only stared at them for a moment before saying, "You don't have to do that, you know."

"Yeah, I do. Else he'll keep yappin'."

"He doesn't yap," she said with a roll of her orange eyes. "He cries. He's not a dog."

"It's annoying all the same."

Not that he was much better at the moment. The baby was pretty keyed in on babbling recently, which bothered Ivan to no end, but the longer it went on, the more it turned into a distant background noise.

"You can't stay down there all night."

"Well, no shit, Iris." Ivan stared into his son's unfocused eyes then. "Just until he falls asleep."

"I just don't want you to fall asleep with him in your arms and-"

"Stop talking to me."

"Ivan-"

"No, seriously." He turned his head as a glob of dribble dropped from his son's mouth. "I don't want to open my mouth I'm scared he'll spit in it."

"Just come to bed."

"No."

And, with a sigh, she continued on into the cramped room before, slowly falling into the floor with her husband, staring up and over at her son as well.

"He does seem happy," she observed as the child took to reaching out for her then. Holding a hand up, she grabbed one of his tiny ones with a slight grin.

Ivan only grunted in response to that, glancing at her. And, slowly, Iris moved to snuggle up against his side though her eyes remained on their son. The sleep was still very present on her mind and, slowly, with the sounds of her sound lulling her off, she fell right back into it.

The next time she awoke was a lot less pleasant. Mainly because it was by a very concerned Makarov who found, in his mind, her passed out of the nursery of the baby, who was awake in his crib.

"Iris." Her father-in-law was shaking her awake rather roughly. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Huh?" Blinking slowly, she sat up and put a hand to her head. "What's going on? Where's Ivan?"

"I do not know. When neither of you answered my knocks, I came in to drop you some jewels in the kitchen," he said as he helped her to her feet, the woman wincing as she put weight on her cut one. "I heard the baby making noises though and came in here to investigate-"

"We were up all night with him," she explained as Makarov only went to free the child from his enclosure. "Ivan and I. He must have left at some point though and not woken me up."

"You slept on the floor?"

"The baby likes to be held."

"On the floor?" he repeated.

"Ivan holds him above his head and it's whole thing, okay?" Then she frowned at the man. "And since when do you just come in uninvited?"

"It was a spur of the moment decision. Besides," he told her as his grandson fussed slightly, no doubt ready for his morning feeding, "it is a good thing I did."

"And why's that?"

"You were on the floor-"

"On purpose," she insisted, moving then to take her child from him though she was still favoring one foot. "Was there something else that you needed?"

"Just to give you this." He reached into a pocket then, holding out some jewels to her, but with the baby in her arms, she didn't take it. "And to know if you might be able to point me in the direction of my son. After yesterday-"

"He really doesn't want to see you right now," she told him simply. "Please just let this pass."

Instead of answering on that, Makarov went to place the jewels down on the changing table for her to retrieve later.

"What happened to your foot then?"

"Hmmm?" She glanced down at it out of habit. "Oh, nothing. I just stepped in some glass."

"That's quite a lot of bandages for some glass."

"Ivan goes a little overboard with the medical kit when he gets his hands on it."

Makarov, who had witnessed this first hand when the man was a boy and took to 'doctoring' his toys at times, only nodded. Then he frowned.

"He took care of your wound?"

Glancing over at him, she said simply, "Ivan doesn't like it when I'm injured."

"No," Makarov agreed softly. "I suppose he wouldn't."

And awkward beat passed in which the baby only got more upset, annoyed then that they hadn't gotten around to feeding him. With a sigh, Iris shifted him in her arms.

"I honeslty have no idea where Ivan is, but I doubt that he'll be back any time soon," she told the man. "Thank you for the jewels though. And I'll… I'll tell him that he should go see you. At the hall. I doubt he'll listen, but-"

"Thanks all the same, my dear," the man said, turning then to head form the room, "but on second though, perhaps I will give this all time. You know Ivan; you do something nice for the boy and he thinks that you're attacking him. He functions better when you completely ignore him, I suppose. But then he takes it as a slight."

"Ivan's an...interesting case," she agreed slowly to which Makarov could only nod.

It was true enough.

"Anyhow, I supposed I should head down to the guild now. They never seem to behave if I'm not around."

"So I've heard."

He stopped in front of her, though that was just so he could gently pat his grandson on the head. Grinning at the agitated boy, he said, "And I will see you very soon. Maybe you'll be in a better mood then, hmmm?"

And then, finally, the man was gone, leaving the mother alone with her child again. With a sigh, she only snuggled him some.

"I know that they say I'll miss time like this," she told him softly, "but for now, I can't wait until you grow a bit."

He was actually pretty fine for most of the day, the baby was. It mostly had to do with him staying up all night. Usually that left him cranky, but for some reason that day he just slept the entire time, giving her some time to herself, in which she took a fast shower, made something to eat, and even spent some time cleaning before Ivan arrived back home.

She was cautious, of course, at the sight of him, having no idea what his mood could possibly be that day. But he only came to join her on the couch and questioned her on her foot.

"You changed the bandages," he observed to which she nodded.

"I managed a shower, actually."

"Just keep it clean," he told her.

"I am."

"I know how you are about pain."

"I said I'm keeping it-"

"You about cried when I poured that antiseptic on it-"

"Well, it stings, Ivan."

Shaking his head, he said, "You could never be a mage, you have such a low tolerance for pain."

"I've never said that I wanted to," she defended, frowning at him. "And I think that my lack of magical ability plays a huge role in that."

"Weakness is rather unattractive, you know."

"Shut up, Ivan. If you wanted to marry a mage, you more than had your pick at your father's hall."

That made him frown. "It was a joke."

"And you know I don't like it. Any of the times you insist on making it."

"You take everything to heart."

"And you don't?"

Huffing, he looked off. "Fine, Iris. I don't care about you or your damn cut. Like that better?"

"No," she groaned. "I just… Sometimes you're really rude. That's all."

They sat there then, for a good minute, until the sound of the baby whining could be heard and, with a sigh, she pushed up, heading off to deal with it. Her husband stayed behind, on the couch, and made no move to follow.

Frequently, Iris reminded herself of how it had been. Before. When she only saw him on good days, which were far more frequent back then, and didn't know just how temperamental the man could be. He used to sit and listen to her recount her life for hours and mourn with her over the loss of her parents and the few distant relatives she'd had. And he took expressed feeling much the same as her, back when the only trauma in his life she knew about was his mother and that he had a distinct hate for his father that he never explained (though eventually, much later, she'd learn).

Everything was so...different, then. And it all seemed so long ago that it almost felt like a completely different life. And hadn't it been?

"Here I am," she sighed as she found her baby wailing from his crib. "Did you forget that you were sleepy? Huh?"

Yes. Maybe. He was also a tad wet. And not snuggly enough in his blanket. And kinda hungry, but not too hungry, and it was just all so confusing. Life was all so confusing. And encompassing. And his head felt cold.

Really, he was just a mess and needed at least thirty minutes of tending to for him to get all settled again. Living was a struggle. Even at three months old.

Iris only lifted him into her arms, taking care of his diaper first, before getting him wrapped back up in one of his baby blankets. She didn't lay him back down though then, as the sound of thunder startled her. Going to the window in his room, she glanced out it, shocked slightly to see how dark the sky had gotten.

If there was going to be a thunder storm, she was going to have a hell of a time getting the baby to stay quiet. Best thing to do was keep him in her arms and just ride out the course of it.

Ten minutes hadn't gone by of her rocking him and watching the heavy rains pour down before the power got knocked out.

"Damn it," she heard Ivan curse before he called out to her. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Iris called back. "There's a flashlight in the kitchen if you can find it in the-"

"I got it."

It took him a minute or two to reach her, but she was alright when he did. The baby, for once, wasn't in tears over the storm and had somehow managed to drift back off, lulled by the sound of rain pounding against the glass of the windowpane.

"It's really coming down."

"Mmmm," Iris hummed as he came to her side, the light of his flashlight shining against the glass. "I don't need that."

"'Huh?"

"The light." Nodding at it, she glanced up at him before saying, "I'm fine in the dark. I just thought you would want it."

Turning it off, he just as quickly moved to rest it against the tiny dresser in the room. "If he's sleeping, you can put him down. Come sit with me in the living room."

Where they'd argued before? No thanks.

Shaking her head, Iris continued to stare out the window. "I think I'm fine here."

"You shouldn't stand near a window during a storm," he grumbled, annoyed that she'd declined him. "Could suddenly hail. And then what? Huh? Glass would get everywhere if it struck it. You got Laxus right next to it."

Grinning down at her baby, she said, "I think he likes it."

"See how much he likes glass sticking out of his eyes."

"Ivan-"

"Give him to me." She had no option as he was taking the boy regardless. Moving to set him down in his crib gently, the man said, "And come to the living room."

Still, she didn't respond for a moment, only reaching out to gently rest her hand against the glass pane. It was cool to the touch and she lingered her fingers there for a few moments.

"I just think it's beautiful," she told him softly. "That's all."

He grunted as the room lit up, lightning the cause as it did the same to the sky above. "You've always said that, but I can't say I agree."

"You never had," she agreed as he only came to rest a hand on the back of her arm. Glancing up at him, she said, "It just loosk completely different in the dark of a storm. The whole city. Don't you think?"

"Not often," he joked harmlessly for once before tugging at her arm. "Come. Your bandage job is rather shoddy."

"Ivan-"

"I'll redo it," he offered, dragging her off, snagging the flashlight as he went. "And more antiseptic."

"No."

"Yes. You think that hurts, you wait until you get an infection."

"I won't."

"Damn straight you won't. I won't let you."

She allowed him to re-bandage her, even though it was a complete waste of their supply, because, well, even if he was a drunk and an ass and, overall, not so great a guy, he had his moments. Yes, Ivan Dreyar definitely had his moments. And she was learning to live for those.

"There." Only when he was content with his job did he sit back to admire it. "Feels better already, doesn't it?"

"No."

"Iris."

"It doesn't." She gingerly wiggled her toes. "It stings again."

Ivan only grunted, maneuvering the flashlight then so he could see to put the stuff away once more. Leaving the room, he called over his shoulder, "The baby's awake. I can hear him in there babbling to himself."

She got to her feet as well then, to go check on him. She was certain that he was fine and knew that he needed time alone occasionally, to adjust well, but at the same time couldn't resist going to peek in at him.

He was fine, of course, but did whine a bit when he saw her, no doubt wanting to be picked up. His head was cold again and, without anyway to let this be known, he just decided to have a good cry for about thirty minutes until Ivan, who could take no more of it, tried what had worked the previous night and laid down on the floor with him.

"Only your son," Iris complained as she laid down with him, "could enjoy this."

"I just hope the blood isn't, like, rushing to his head or something."

"You're not holding him upside down, Ivan," she chided. "So I'm sure he's fine."

Grunt. Then, "He's starting to sprout hair, you know."

"He's always had a bit," she told him.

"But it's growing."

"As long as he doesn't end up like your father."

A snort that time. "My hair is perfectly in tact."

"There's a chance that it could hit you later. It hit him late, didn't it?"

"Skips a generation anyhow. Which means," he said as he stared up at his son, "that Laxus will have to deal with it."

"The horror."

"Did your father go bald?" he asked then. "Before he passed?"

"Full head of hair."

"Huh. Maybe he'll survive with every last strand then."

"Don't say survive when talking about our baby, Ivan."

"That's what you do in this life, isn't it?" Lightning lit up the room once more. "Survive?"

"I'd like to think that we do a bit more than that. Don't you?"

He only let out a long breath before saying, "I don't rather feel like thinking about Makarov know as it is."

Cuddling into his side, she mumbled, "Me neither."

Eventually, the baby settled again and, slowly, Ivan lowered him down on his chest. That time, he didn't cry. Only rested. With a slight giggle, Iris reached out to gently stroke the back of his head.

"I wonder what he thinks of us."

"Hmmm?"

"It's been a bit now," she said. "He's adjusted to us. I wonder what he thinks."

"What should he think?"

"Well, I don't know, Ivan. I'm just curious."

Grunt. When he took note of her frown, he inwardly sighed before saying, "I bet he thinks that we're two people who take care of him and that you feed him and that we keep him safe."

Iris accepted this for a moment before saying, "He has no idea what people are though, so-"

"You're annoying."

With a grin, she whispered, "Would you ever think about having another?"

"I never thought about having this one," he pointed out. "And I rather liked being an only child."

"I have an older half-sister," she told him, not for the first time. "But I have no idea whatever happened to her."

"I bet she's somewhere thinking the same thing about you."

"Is she lying on the floor of a nursery too? In the dark?"

"Possibly." Then he paused. "Or she's dead."

She blinked. Then she only snuggled closer to him. "You're lucky you have me."

"Oh yeah?"

Nodding, she said, "Because there isn't another woman around that would put up with you."

He only snorted. "As if you're a catch?"

"I don't insinuate that people's long lost relatives are dead."

"Mine are dead. You don't have to insinuate."

"I hope that Laxus is a lot better with people than you are," she told him with a sigh, resting a palm against the back of her baby's head.

"I landed you, didn't I?"

Adding an eye roll, she said, "I suppose he couldn't be much worse."

"My boy will be a legend with women."

"I said people."

"Women are people."

"Mmmm." Nuzzling against his side, she said, "The way you and your father are with him, he probably won't have much luck."

"What do you call me and you then? If not luck?"

"I suppose divine would be too strong of word?"

Snort. "I more than suppose."

"Fate then." Then, softly, she added, "If only to have Laxus."

That struck him funny, almost as if she'd long given up on them, which he wasn't sure when such a thing could have happened. Sure, they weren't happy and yes, they fought a lot, but there had to be something more to their relationship than just the birth of their son.

Right?

Still, Ivan shut his eyes and breathed deeply. "If only for Laxus."

 


	5. Identity: X798

  


Laxus honestly didn't wish for Mirajane to be traveling. It wasn't so much that she was very far along in her pregnancy, because she wasn't, but more so that he, honestly, just wanted to be alone. He knew that she would bring him immense amounts of comfort as he went to identify the body of his presumably deceased mother, but was also well aware of the woman's affects on his sanity. And she was a Strauss. They dealt with all of their feelings head on. He was a Dreyar, which entailed keeping them bottled up until, in a complete fit of lunacy and rage, you attempted to ravage your grandfather's guildhall and turn the female members to stone all because, really, you were pissed that he wasn't dead yet.

Ahem.

Anyways, he just wasn't so on board with her coming. This wasn't going to stop her though, he knew, and put up no fight at all. Just sent Freed off to fetch them train tickets, informed Erza of her duties overseeing the hall for him, and then began to mentally prepare for it; the viewing of his mother's body.

There were a lot of things swirling up inside of him. It was kinda funny, really, when one thought about it. He'd always assumed her dead. Since he was a boy. He had, after all, been told as much by the only two men in his life that he ever thought that he could trust at the time. Then again, they were Dreyars too and he knew enough about himself to know just how tricky he could be. Not really anything he could hold against them.

Mostly because Ivan had been MIA for years and Makarov didn't even have years anymore. He wanted to be upset, wanted to get angry, but it wouldn't do him any good. All he could focus on then was his mother. And besides, even if he had known she was alive, what good would it have done? Clearly she didn't want him. Clearly. She'd never come back for him.

So why did he care so much about her anyhow?

"Mmmm," Mirajane sighed as she sat next to him, on the train, leaning into the man's arm slightly. "I can't wait until the baby gets big enough to kick. Can you?"

Laxus was busy looking out the window and trying to keep down his motion sickness, but knew Mira's game. She thought that if she kept talking to him that she would keep him from thinking about his mother and what laid ahead of them.

"I'm not the one that has to put up with it," he mumbled to which Mirajane frowned.

"Put up with?"

Nodding slightly, he said, "Imagine trying to sleep and the baby starts kicking. And the bigger the baby gets the more they say that he'll push into your bladder and you'll have to pee constantly. And that's not even talking about how tight your back is gonna-"

"Are you excited for this baby at all?"

He spared her a rare grin then, shifting in his seat to pat her on the head. "Of course I am. None of that's going to be happening to me."

Mirajane blinked before saying, "But you're going to have to put up with me as it's happening to me. So who really wins?"

Laxus only shook his head. "The baby."

Once more finding her grin, Mirajane moved to wrap the man's usual fuzzy coat around her tighter before resting against him again.

"I'm just excited in general," Mira told him. "That's all."

Nodding, Laxus said, "I'll be glad when he gets here too."

"Or she," Mira prompted. He only nodded though before repeating the words back to her.

"Or she."

The train ride was so long that, for a bit, Mirajane fell asleep against him and Laxus was left alone with his thoughts there for awhile. Not that they were any different from most of his thoughts recently, as they all focused in on the same thing. The only thing, really, that he could think about.

What exactly was it that his mother was doing for all that time? Clearly she hadn't gotten another family. Or at least not one that was still around to identify her. And if she had, would he have even ever found out about her death? Or what if she did have more children out there and Laxus had siblings and he didn't even know? And they didn't know?

Ugh. His head was beginning to ache again.

When Mirajane awoke the next time, she disappeared, off to find a bathroom, and when she returned she was fully awake it seemed.

"So," she began as she took her seat next to the man, him staring down at her with heavy eyes. "Are we going to check into the hotel first or go down to the-"

"Hotel," he told her. "We don't...look at her until tomorrow. It'll be so late when we get in, after all."

"Can we stop and get dinner?"

"Of course I was gonna feed you, Mira."

"I meant before the hotel."

"You that starved?"

"No. Not yet." Then she grinned at him. "But I definitely will be."

"I'll take yo to the hotel first, alright?" he told her. "And then go out and get us something."

"Drag-"

"I don't feel like eating out tonight, Mira." He let out a long sigh. "Alright?"

And what could she say other than yes? Snuggling up to him once more, she said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just… This is a lot for me, alright? I don't like doing things like this."

Mirajane had to wonder what other things could possibly fall into the same category as going to identify the body of the dead parent that you hadn't seen in years. None she could think of, but she kept her mouth shut, saying nothing.

"I just wish that there was someone else," he told her then, finally. "Someone to look at...her. But Gramps is too old and my father-"

"I'm sorry you have to, Laxus." And Mira meant it. "I… The last time I saw my mother, it was as we were putting her in the ground. It still haunts me. If there was some other way-"

"You suffered far more than me." Laxus moved to slip one of his hands into hers then, though he was still looking out the window. "So do not compare the two."

"That's not true, Lax. You-"

He squeezed her hand. "Please. Let's just get there, huh?"

She kept rather quiet after that, if only to placate to him. And, when they finally arrived in town, Laxus wasted no time in locating the hotel and going to drop their bags in the room.

"You take a bath or something, alright?" he told Mirajane when they got up to it. "I'mma go out and get us food."

"I could g-"

"It's too cold, Mira. You just take a nice bath, huh?" He gave her a kiss too, before he left, and she only told him to hurry back.

"I'm really hungry," she insisted to which Laxus only nodded and gave her one more kiss. "Dragon."

He'd be back soon enough, he assured her though, silently, he knew that he'd also be taking a short walk around the frozen town. Clear his head. She could wait a bit.

She also decided to take him up on his suggestion, not waiting long after the slayer left to go take a long, hot soak in the tub. The past few days had made her extremely tense and, well, while it didn't alleviate that, it was nice none the less.

Laxus though was back out there, facing the cold. Honestly, it wasn't so bad. He felt numb already and, with his fluffy coat back rightfully on his shoulders, he hardly felt anything. Other than completely and utterly at a loss.

Was he feeling...mourning? Or something else? He'd lost people before and honestly had, in theory, lost his mother before. He'd mourned her years ago.

So why did it feel so different from every other time?

Maybe he just needed some sleep. Some real sleep. Since receiving that letter, he had hardly been able to do anything but snooze for an hour or two at a time. Being in that hotel with the next day looming ahead wouldn't be conclusive for a good night's rest, but if he got the demon to rub his tummy and sing to him, maybe that would help.

Back at the hotel room, he found her still in the tub, bathroom door open as well.

"I'm back," he called to to her as he came in, Mira only moaning from the bathroom.

"My back's all tight."

"See? Told you."

"Not from the baby," she complained as he only went to drop their food on the little desk in the corner. "Just in general."

So much for his tummy rub…

"I'll rub your back after we eat," he offered simply, glancing in the bathroom. She was almost completely submerged in the tub and he kinda wanted to just let her stay in there. Stay warm. But as it was their food was getting colder by the minute and, well, he had to tell her to come eat.

She was more than happy to do that too and was quick to get out of the tub before drying off. Then she settled into the bed with her half of the food, not saying much as she dug in.

Laxus only went over to the couch that was along one of the walls in the room, taking the communication lacrima with him.

"I'm gonna check in with Erza and Freed," he called out to Mirajane who, through a mouth full of food, called out an okay. Since finding out that she was with child, Mirajane had taken to the idea that she was, officially, eating for two. Laxus was fine with that though as it at least kept her out of his hair for a bit.

Things were calm in that way for a bit. Laxus contacted both Erza and Freed, getting good reports back from both of them, as well as more condolences that he just didn't want to deal with. And after that, Mirajane was done eating, but he only went to join her on the bed and start on his own.

"Your back still tight?" he asked her as she settled into the bed. When she nodded, he said, "Let me just finish eatin', huh?"

"I'm fine," she assured him as she burrowed under the blanket. "Honestly."

He let her pretend to be until he'd eaten, cleaned up, and gone to the bathroom. Then he was headed back over to the bed to force her to sit up some and let him rub at her back a bit. Once he started she was far more willing and even hummed a bit.

"You take such good care of me, dragon."

"Think it's the other way around," he mumbled."But sure."

"Definitely not."

It was easy for Mirajane to fall asleep that night, but Laxus had some trouble. The darkness did nothing to help his wandering mind and, as not to disturb his wife, he eventually climbed out of bed and went over to the couch.

Laxus thought that perhaps his headphones would bring him some comfort and snapped them on almost immediately. Music usually soothed him and, when he was a boy, got him through many tough times that directly dealt with his parents. No reason they couldn't in his adulthood.

No help came though as his mind just wouldn't shut off. Having to see her...body was probably the biggest problem. He was nearly certain that he could still identify it, had even went and dug up an old photo, one of the only ones that he had of her, and knew it would be a last ditch effort if he couldn't tell.

And, not that he wanted to be so...morbid, but…

What if she was like rotting or…

No. Then they wouldn't make him look at her.

Right?

Ugh. He just wanted to sleep. But he couldn't. He kept thinking of his mother and the fuzzy memories that he held of her, no doubt intermingled with fake ones that he'd acquired through the years by stories his grandfather had told him of the woman. Then he'd get to thinking of how she'd look dead and still and…

He felt like he was going to be sick.

Shifting on the couch to lay down, he stared over at the bed where Mirajane was still snoozing. As much comfort as she brought, at the same time, she also made him nervous. She always kinda had. He didn't think that his family had a good enough track record with marriages to lead her on the way that he was. Honestly, he did love her and was very glad that they were together, but sometimes he felt like he was just going to screw it up in the end. It was nearly inevitable, it felt.

Then, after she got the marriage out of him, she got on that baby kick and what could Laxus do? She'd always kinda talked about it. And, truth be told, he rather liked the idea of having a son. Or a daughter even. Someone to teach stuff to and watch grow and even just someone else to be around. To have as family. Laxus wasn't a man that felt loneliness often, but occasionally it set in. And even though he had the demon and the Thunder Legion, sometimes it was just the blood that really mattered. And Gramps wasn't getting any younger. Laxus was the last of the Dreyars, really.

Until his little buddy was born. That made him happy. A bit, anyways. At that moment though, lying there on the couch, music play distantly in the background, he wasn't sure what he felt. Confused, mostly.

He must have been laying there for over an hour when, suddenly, over on the bed Mirajane began to shift around. With a moan, she opened her eyes, patting at the bed. When all she felt was cold sheets, she sat up.

"Drag- Oh. There you are."

"Here I am."

"Wha' are you doin'?" Mira slurred sleepily, rubbing at her eyes all the while. "Lax?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Why not? Did you have a bad dream?"

"Of course not, Mira. I just...wanted to listen to music. That's all. I didn't wanna wake you."

"Well, I can't sleep without you," she told him though she was already falling back into bed, snuggling into the pillow. "Dragon."

"You seemed to be doing it fine for the past-"

"Come over here."

"Mira," he sighed. "I just… My stomach is all knotted up and I don't want-"

"Is it?" She was sitting up again with a yawn. "Why didn't you say something? C'mere and let me rub it."

Well, if she was offering…

"Mmmm," Mirajane hummed as he made it back to her, ditching his headphones along the way. "You silly dragon. I would have gotten up to take care of you. You should know that."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she giggled as he stretched out on his back, her immediately moving to stroke it gently. "I wish I had my guitar. I'd sing you to sleep."

"You can't rub my stomach and play the guitar."

"Good point," she yawned. Then, with a tired grin, she whispered, "But I can still sing to you."

"It'd help," he mumbled, shutting his eyes.

"I figured."

She sang him some of her own songs and, well, that must have done the trick because not twenty minutes later, Laxus was out. And Mirajane only giggled before cuddling up to him. She knew that the next day would be hell for him and if only for that short while she'd been able to make him feel better, then she felt accomplished.

Except it didn't last. He wasn't certain at first what it was that woke him up at four that morning other than it was a...banging. He was about to spring up and go check on what the hell Gramps was doing before he figured out that he was very much so in a hotel and some couple was having a grand ol' time next door.

"Nrrg," he groaned, peeking his eyes open. Mirajane had shifted away from him, to the other side of the way too huge bed and, not liking this, he only rolled over to get closer. He needed his demon. His dream had been full of darkness and a distant voice that might have been his mother's, but was probably his imagination and, oh, his stomach ache was back.

Maybe he was getting an ulcer.

But Mirajane's hair made him feel a little better as he buried his face in it, breathing deeply the smell of whatever shampoo she used. Using it as a distraction, he kept taking deep breaths of the scent until, slowly, it was all he could think about, the banging becoming more and more distant.

At some point he must have drifted back off because, out of nowhere there was the noise of a blaring alarm clock. Groaning as he was drug into awareness, he felt Mirajane slip out of his grasp to get the alarm and then, oh, it was morning. And she was singing and going to open the curtains and man, his woman was batty.

"No, Mira," he groaned, rolling onto his back. "I don't wanna get up."

"You don't have to," she told him simply and, though his eyes were shut, he could hear her going around the room, getting ready for the day. "I just wanted to get up early. I thought you would too. So that we could...could get this…"

Over with. That's what she meant. He knew it. He honestly should have been thinking the same thing. Instead he only grumbled out something about her giving him another hour and, well, that was that.

The next time he awoke, it was to the smell of bacon and Mirajane was carrying a to-go box in her hands as she came into the room.

"You left?" he complained as she only giggled.

"I wanted to go look around the town," she admitted as he sat up some, stretching. "I've never been here before, if you want to know the truth. And I know we'll probably be gone by tomorrow so… I stopped and ate, so I went ahead and brought you something back."

"Should have woken me up. I'dda-"

"I did, silly. And you wanted an hour."

Heh.

The rest of the morning was rather slow. Laxus took a long shower after eating and Mirajane mostly sat around and fretted over him. Eventually, he looked and the clock and figured that it was time to face the music.

His anger was starting to spring back up then as it was snowing like mad out when they departed. Mirajane should have been at home or the bar, where it was warm. Not trekking around in the cold with him to go identify some woman that didn't mean shit to him. Mirajane meant the world to him. The entire world. So why was she suffering for someone that he didn't care about at all?

And another thing; the woman was only eight hours away from him. Eight. From Magnolia. That whole damn time she never thought about popping in to say hello? And it wasn't like Fairy Tail wasn't well known. She had to have heard of all the trials and tribulations it had gone through. Sure, she wasn't a mage, he knew that, but she had to have at least assumed he'd become one. She couldn't have peeked in to make sure, gee, that he was still fucking alive? You know, like a decent human being?

Oh, that was right. She wasn't a decent human being. At all. She was a cold-hearted bitch who had screwed up his father and his life and didn't care about him. At all. But here he was, going to claim her damn body. And why? Huh? Why? Why was he? Huh? Huh? Why-

"Ow, Lax. You're squishing my hand!"

He frowned as Mirajane slipped her gloved hand from his, out there on the street, giving him a frown at first and then, slightly worried, a concerned glance.

"Are you alright?"

No. He wasn't. At all. He'd gotten all worked up over the entire thing and it was just so stupid. All of it.

"I'm fine." He took her hand once more because he needed it, but was sure to not grip it in the slightest. "My head's a big cold is all. Shoulda worn a hat or somethin'. Let's just find this place, huh? What was the address again?"

Mirajane had never been to a morgue before. Growing up in a rather remote village, there really wasn't a need for one. At least not in the actual sense. They had someone who took care of the bodies, of course, a place where they put them in the ground, but they definitely didn't embalm them or anything of the like. And identifying someone after death? For what reason? They were dead. No investigation needed.

And though he was a city boy through and through, Laxus actually hadn't had that many deaths. He'd definitely never needed to identify a body either. He was extremely nervous. His palms were sweating in his gloves, despite the cold and, well, he really kinda just wanted to back out and go home.

What difference did it make if his mother rotted in there, in that morgue, for the rest of eternity? He'd long gotten over her death and, as far as he knew, he was the only relative that might care. His father definitely wouldn't and Gramps, well, if he had been perfectly fine with acting like she was dead, why would her actually being so be so different?

Nothing. Nothing! She'd given him nothing, she meant nothing, and if no one in her apparent second life she was living had cared enough to check the morgues around town for her body then, well, shit, she was nothing at all! Time to treat her as such.

He was just trying to figure out a way to explain this to Mirajane when an odd feeling hit him. What if...what if that was someone else's mother in there? And they didn't know she was dead? Just thought she was missing? And because he didn't go in there and explain that no, it wasn't Iris Dreyar, they never tried locating who else it might be? Then what?

As far fetched as it sounded, it was enough to force him to take a deep breath and decide that he could do it. That he had to do it.

And besides, what were the chances of the demon actually letting him get away with not? She'd say that he had to face the death head on and find some sort of silver lining in it or something else stupid like that.

"You ready?" Mirajane asked when they reached the place and took a few moments to just stand outside it. The snow was still falling, but not nearly as hard. Still, he knew that she had to be a bit cold and only nodded.

It was time.

The whole thing felt rather surreal. The medical examiner was nice enough and they were supposed to meet with a detective as well. If it was Iris. Laxus wasn't sure what he could possibly tell him or what the man could inform him of, but he didn't have long to think on it.

At his request, Mirajane didn't go with him to look at the body. He wasn't sure why, but having her there just didn't appeal to him. He'd admit though that his hand felt rather empty when she let it go, but it was just as well. He was empty. Numb. He had to get whole again by himself.

She was laid out on a table, in another room, glass separating them. There was a sheet over her face, but when the ME asked if he was ready and Laxus nodded, someone in the other room, beyond the glass, moved to change that, folding the cloth down to her chest.

His heart got stuck in his chest too, as he stared into the other room, at the woman laid out there. Her eyes were closed, which was the first thing he noticed. Then the natural blonde hair that looked just as cold and lifeless as the rest of her.

Could hair die?

He didn't know.

Then he took in the rest of the face. Once more. He had to speak, he knew, but the words weren't coming out and, to steady himself, he reached out to rest a hand against the glass window, letting it take his support for a moment. The ME was questioning him, but Laxus only stood there for a moment, glad that the demon wasn't there to see him.

Lifting his then bowed head, he only whispered one thing to the medical examiner who was moving to toss her arm over his shoulder, as if to be comforting. Swallowing, Laxus said softly, "That's not her."

 


End file.
